Baked
by Angel360-Devil0
Summary: How four kids who only wanted to blackmail their teachers for grades got a lot more than what they bargained for at the faculty Christmas party.
1. The Job

**A/N: **Now that Christmas is drawing dangerously close, I decided to put this up after working on it for a few months. Sadly, I am only halfway through being finished thanks to the joys of real life and procrastination and writer's block. But enjoy anyhow.

**Disclaimer: Don't own Glee. Sorry folks, but if I did, Puck and Quinn's storyline would be dealt with and there wouldn't be as many songs per episode. (Something else about Will and Emma sexing it up a lot more here as a bone for Wemma fans reading this.)**

* * *

Under the William McKinley High School football field's bleachers, many unscrupulous and morally depraved things happen. One time, a rumor spread that Noah "Puck" Puckerman would steal girls' virginities against the third pole from the left. When Jacob-Ben Israel investigated this claim, Puck and his football team friends threw Jacob into a dumpster. Although it is certainly false, it was said that a girl gave blow jobs for five dollars under the bleachers. Not to mention, countless couples make out under the bleachers during football games and school hours. It's a well-known fact around school that there is a group of kids who smoke Chronic Lady marijuana bought from ex-teacher Sandy Ryerson, although no kid is allowed to approach him. Since Sandy branched his drug trafficking to an entire network of runners after his dishonorable discharge from Acafellas, it is that much easier to obtain Chronic Lady marijuana. None of the teachers know that every morning and afterschool, rain or shine, those kids go and smoke their joints.

The school called them the Sunshine Gang, partly because they look like innocent rays of sunshine to everyone who didn't know of their seediness. The name also came about because of their leader. To the unsuspecting faculty, the four members were four separate and very different teenagers: Sunny Brue, Mitchell Davis, Brad Isaacs, and Violet Connell. They look like every other kid in Lima and get fairly good grades…on paper. All of them lead double lives away from their parents, who never cared too much about them in the first place. Their broken home lives and a love of smoking are the only things all four share. But none of their differences or the rest of their lives matter under the bleachers. At school, it was their ultimate sanctuary.

Sunny draws in sharply on her joint before letting a flood of smoke expound from her nostrils like a dragon of medieval lore. "I don't understand it," she remarks while pulling her jacket closer around her. The winter weather—snow slushie on the ground and all—arrived in Lima early, just in time for a white Christmas.

After a silence of kids smoking and a couple making out…"Sun, where's the light?" Brad, clad in a sweater vest and half-frame glasses, asks her. She grunts and throws the black lighter to him. After he lights his, he says, "What are you talking about anyway?"

"Why'd you call us here?" Mitchell gestures at Sunny with his joint. "I thought it was Christmas tradition to break out the bongs and shit at Brad's house and watch _Santa Claus Conquers the Martians_ while his parents are gone on vacation."

"We'll do that on Christmas Eve. For now, we need a plan to make sure next year's grades are A's again."

Violet, a shadow in the background except for the orange ember off of her joint, bristles at this. "Can't we ever pull something as a practical joke? We haven't done one of those since freshman year. It always has to be about the stupid grades when we're never going to leave Lima anyway!"

"What did you not understand anyway?" Brad asks again, pulling his red hunting hat down over his ears.

"Brady, you need to stop with the fucking questions. They'll get you killed." Mitchell kicks against a pole for the sake of the vibration and echo from it.

"I just don't get Christmas sometimes," Sunny says.

"You can't be baked this fast. We aren't like this for at least another hour, and I don't feel like getting into that until I'm out of it," Mitchell draws in on his joint again.

"I'm starting them early. Deal with it."

The group thought about Sunny's statement for another eternity. The marijuana sank into their systems some more. The couple grew bored of making out under the bleachers and left. As Brad watched them silently converse before disappearing completely, he suddenly said, "It's just like any other holiday; getting drunk and high off your ass. But it's also about the fuzzy feeling you get when you're drunk or high. You're supposed to feel good about yourself during Christmas, so maybe because we don't feel good about ourselves due to school and home, we can't take Christ's birthday seriously. In fact, it's not even Christ's birthday, and the holiday was pagan before the Christians decided to steal it."

"Hail the Christians for being slimy thieving bastards," Mitchell raises his hand in a mock preach gesture before closing his eyes and leaning against Puck's pole.

"Thanks to them, we have one of the most superficial holidays known to mankind," Brad continues. "It's all about the booze—"

"And the girls in sexy Santa's helper suits at the mall—"

"Those God-awful songs on the radio—"

"—God, they're so damn sexy. I'd sit on their lap any day."

"—Black Friday and all of the sales…"

"The Christmas specials we watched as kids," Brad interrupts the absent-minded remarks from Mitchell and Violet.

"I get high to those every Christmas morning," Mitchell grins.

"Then there's the staff party the teachers are having—"

"Wait!" Sunny throws her joint down and crushes it with the heel of her boot. "I know how we're going to get our grades next year! Brady, you're a fucking genius!"

Brad is exasperated from his monologue, not happy with Sunny's compliment. "Just because I have _Brady Bunch_ hair does not mean you get to call me Brady! You guys keep interrupting my train of thought…ugh, what's the idea?"

"Brady, we're going to need your parents' alcohol stash at our disposal again. Vi, we'll need you to use your insider sources. Mitch, do you still have your brother's camera equipment at your place?" Everyone grunts yes, except for Brad. He had hopped onto Sunny's thought train quickly.

"Sun, we can't do this. It's illegal!"

"So's what we're doing right now dipshit!" Mitchell, frustrated with the relatively moral group member, throws his short joint onto the ground and stamps it into oblivion.

"Bu-but we're not causing harm to anyone but ourselves. We'd be hurting people and clearly implicating ourselves as the criminals if we did it!"

"Then we'll hide ourselves carefully or something," Sunny interjects to stem off Mitchell's displeased mood. "but we need to do this. Not only is it going to be hilarious," she peeks over at Violet, who suddenly breaks into a Cheshire grin. "but it's also going to give us that fuzzy feeling you were talking about."

"Hey, you can't use my answer against me!"

"She's Sunny. Of course she can," Violet deadpans.

"So, here's what we're going to do. We've got two days until the staff Christmas party goes down. Tomorrow after school, we'll go over to Brady's and whip up our drink spiker. Violet, you and your sources are going to find out where the party is taking place and how much spiker we'll need—today. Also Brady, set up the cameras we'll need for watching the party. Mitch…just show up this time." After a pause of agreements, Sunny warned her gang, "I'm going to impose a smoking ban on us for the next two days. We can't afford to be anywhere near stoned when preparing or actually doing this. Get it?"

"Got it," they all reply.

"Good." The final warning bell rings in the distance. "Meeting over." Violet and Brad extinguish their joints before they all walk back to the main building.

* * *

After school on the next day, the Sunshine Gang is at Brad's house. They are all filled with ennui, but manage to busy themselves in various ways. Brad and Sunny examine four test drink spikers, all mixtures of various types of liquor from Brad's parents' stash, on the marble countertop while Violet and Mitchell test the cameras.

"Say something to the camera please," Violet says to Mitchell, who is on the other end of the large living room. The program the group is working with is a new wireless surveillance system Brad's parents are beta-testing for the company they work at, but it's practically bug-free.

"I want to go to California," Mitchell scoffs and rolls his eyes.

Satisfied, Violet smiles for the first time that day. "The sound is coming in clear. Brad's parents have done a marvelous job tweaking this," she mutters to herself. "Mitch, elaborate please."

"What the fuck? Shit…California. I want to go there to smoke all of the pot I want. The girls—"

"Lower your voice now. I need to test how well it can pick up whispers."

"Fuck that! I didn't agree to test for you anyway!"

"Hey!" Sunny suddenly shouted. "Mitch, this isn't for her, it's for all of us, including you. One more blowup like that and you're out." It is Mitchell's weak spot: good grades for his mom to be proud of. He decides to whisper the rest of his thoughts about California to the camera. "Vi, what were the drinks at the party tomorrow?" Sunny hollers to her friend.

"Hot cocoa, coffee, eggnog, water bottles, soda in liter bottles. No punch, but there'll be Coffee Mate and stuff like that there. The camera seems to be working fine, by the way," Violet turns off the camera to Mitchell's joy.

"Do you know if the eggnog is going to be alcoholic? It'll make our job a whole lot easier," Brad asks her.

"Unconfirmed, but I'm sure they'll have both virgin and alcoholic eggnog there. If not," at the counter, she grins before carefully tasting one of the spikers, "we can always make the virgin eggnog alcoholic. Needs more rum."

"They're testers," Sunny slides the cup away from Violet. "Do you have the drinks in the fridge Brady?"

Brad ignores Sunny's misnomer again. "I'm going to pull out the virgin and alcoholic eggnog."

"You have both here? Man, you're really fucking loaded," Mitchell jumps off the couch and clomps to the kitchen.

"If we try to spike the hot cocoa or coffee," Brad pushes up his glasses and continues without missing a beat, "we'll have to make a near tasteless combination."

"I'll make the coffee and cocoa, I guess. You have the ones I told you they were going to bring, right?" Brad nods absently at Violet while she prepares the hot drinks.

Once he poured out equal servings of both eggnog and spiker, it was only fit for them to test it. "Bottoms up." Brad, Sunny, Violet, and Mitchell test their various drinks, eight different combinations per person. When the hot chocolate and coffee were tested, they found that if it were consumed while still hot; the taste would be nonexistent for all of the spikers. Therefore, a new combination wasn't needed after all, much to Brad's relief.

In the end, the gang decides on the one with a good mix of light rum because it matches up the most with the alcoholic eggnog Brad's parents made. "We're spiking both eggnogs and the hot drinks. Wonderful," Sunny grins. "More targets for us."

"So Vi," Brad readjusts his glasses. "you'll be in charge of the actual spiking and setting up our hidden cameras. Mitchell, Sunny, and I will provide a distraction to buy you time."

"The key here is to get Sylvester and Beiste distracted. If we get those two hard asses, we've got the entire staff," Sunny adds for clarification and to reaffirm her position as leader of the gang.

"Just one problem," Violet says. "I don't know what I'll be able to do if Mr. Schue and Ms. P aren't distracted. They're the most curious of the staff and have a weird tendency to being alone in a room when no one else is around. It's like some sort of TV show—"

"We'll try to involve them in the distraction, but worse comes to worse, take a picture of them and threaten to send it to Ms. P's dentist boyfriend."

"Sun! You can't possibly consent to threatening Ms. P's relationship!" Brad warns to no real end. "It's not right!"

"Nothing we do is fucking right anyway!" Mitchell shoves Brad's shoulders.

"Don't touch me motherfucker!"

"We'll see who's—"

"WILL YOU TWO SHUT THE FUCK UP?" Sunny finally shouts at them both, before suddenly coming to yet another realization. "Brady, you remember lines from _The Room_?"

"That movie we got high to Thanksgiving weekend?" Mitchell asks.

"Do you get high to everything you watch on TV?" Mitchell was ready to respond to Brad's question, but Brad suddenly says, "No, don't answer that. But yeah, I remember some of it. It was just really trippy and horrible. Why?"

"I know what our distraction's going to be. We'll need to find the script online," Sunny adds.

"Do you still need me to catch a photo of the lovebirds?" Violet pipes up.

"As an absolute last resort. You hide otherwise. And if you catch them being close and they don't notice you, film them. Mitch, Vi, is all of our recording and camera stuff in absolute working order?" He grunts in response, still glowering over Sunny's obvious anger at him, while Violet gives a simple thumbs-up. "No holes and plenty of our spiker. We stay as long as we can, but we'll have to get in for our cameras and out of the school fast the next morning."

"We should be set for next year though." Brad, for the first time that day, smiles. "Get ready for an early merry Christmas everyone."

A brief silence follows before everyone begins laughing out loud. "Merry Christmas!" they all shout before laughing all over again.

* * *

**A/N: **As a final notice, I may or may not add more canon characters into the mix-still no New Directions kids. However, I am planning to start up a series of one-shots on the Sunshine Gang's antics around the school for the back part of Season 2-when the show comes back after the Super Bowl next year. Something for everyone to look out for.

Reviews are appreciated!


	2. The Bait

**A/N: **Last night was a little depressing, huh? Well, not really, seeing that now there's decent fodder for storyline redemption. It's the first day of December, so I thought I'd go with an update. Enjoy. Disclaimer is in the first chapter.

* * *

Sunny, Brad, and Mitchell lean against the lockers of the first floor hallway at 4 PM the day of the staff Christmas party according to their plan. Their distraction is completely memorized, but will include on-the-spot improvisation for more attention. They are only a ten second walk from where the party will be taking place, a spacious teacher's lounge. The decorations are already up and, to their delight, Violet found out that the food and drinks were there as well.

Violet keeps her post in the French classroom around the corner. She converses with Mrs. Jarvis in fluent French about the discussion with the gang under the bleachers two days ago. Violet is a little off-kilter due to going without marijuana in her system for two days, but she has gained a tolerance to temporary "diets" and enough willpower to fend off any complete shutdown.

The only answer she got from Mrs. Jarvis about the discussion involves shoving blame on commercialization…and yet the message of Christmas is still in all of the advertising. Impossible, but Violet swallows the answer with pride. She stares at Mrs. Jarvis for a while to stall, examining her pearl necklace, weird '50s hairdo, and penchant for cable knit sweaters in the winter. Then the cue from the rest of the gang reaches her ears: a loud bang on the lockers.

"What was that?" As expected, Mrs. Jarvis rises from her seat and begins to wander to the door.

"Shut up!" Sunny slaps Mitchell while Brad takes the cue to sort of protect her, just like the movie.

"Hey baby—"

Mitchell sneers at Brad, "You really don't know, do you?"

"Maybe I know more than you think I do Mitchell!" What did he know? Nothing about the group, really. For joining only a few months ago, Brad thinks to himself, he has succeeded in breaking every school rule possible. And now they are breaking the law blatantly.

"You don't know shit!"

Brad and Mitchell stare each other down while Sunny tries her best to look as worried as possible, a damsel in distress look that Violet has pulled since she could talk. Neither of the guys is very good looking or good boyfriend material, but they are loyal and smart in their own ways, which comes in handy in group capers such as the one they are pulling now. First, the students that stay after school begin to crowd around the fighting trio. A few who heard the commotion were giggling to themselves because they knew the joke almost too well. Finally, the teachers on the first floor begin coming to the commotion—including Sylvester and Beiste.

Once Sunny spots Mrs. Jarvis and Violet, literally an image in violet, turn the corner and Violet slide into the lounge, she begins to back up against the lockers and slides to the ground, face buried in her hands. "What do you want from me, huh? Huh?"

"Hey, Sunny…" Brad stoops to help her up, but is quietly refused.

"I don't want to talk to you right now."

"But Sunny—!"

"She doesn't want to talk to you dipshit!" Mitchell shoves Brad into the lockers while helping Sunny up instead.

"Since when do you give me orders?" Brad makes an even bigger show of pushing Mitchell away than the movie's star did.

"Since Sunny changed her mind about you."

"She loves me you bastard," he seethes before lunging at Mitchell.

It's the first improv move of the diversion, which makes Mitchell topple to the ground the first time. Even Sunny is a little shocked by Brad's attitude—it's almost as though he isn't acting anymore. But Violet isn't out yet, and Brad knows better than his cohorts that she definitely needs more time. If he gets a little cut up, it'll be worth it. And after the catfight between Santana and Quinn three months ago, he would be able to distract Mr. Schue for sure.

Inside the lounge, Violet can hear punches being landed and quite a few shouts. "Fuck!" she whispers to herself while putting up the last camera, carefully avoiding any of the mistletoe perched in various places. All four corners of the lounge have cameras while most of the hallways are monitored from black orbs on the ceiling. If anything happens outside of the lounge, Brad will hopefully be able to hack into the system from the computer lab they will be posted at. If not, the attendance office is always open to them; she brought her lock-picking equipment just for the occassion.

Violet moves the chair back to its original location before beginning the drink spiking. The stainless steel coffee and hot cocoa containers are tackled first because they take the longest to take apart and put back together. Both eggnog bowls have over four shots added to them, and just like that, it's all over.

"Violet?"

_Shit._ Quickly hiding the shot containers in her bag, she turns around clumsily with the most innocent and ditzy look she can summon. "Ms. P! I was looking for you, but I think I lost my way to the counseling office. It doesn't look like one, with the eggnog and food here. I'm terribly sorry; this school is so much more confusing than the one in Dayton." On the inside, Violet is cringing at her fake word usage and tone, but the best part is that Ms. Pillsbury believed everything.

"Oh, it's all right. Your friends…they're fighting outside. Will—Mr. Schuester is trying to separate them both right now."

"They're fighting over Sunny, aren't they?" Ms. Pillsbury nods. "Of course they would. Any guy would fight over her." Violet even takes the effort to add an eye roll to make the lie more believable.

After an awkward silence, Ms. Pillsbury asks, "What did you want to talk about?"

"Nothing really. I just wanted to say bye for the break and I hope you have a marvelous time." Now is the perfect time to get out without any more questions. "If you'll excuse me, my friends…"

"Oh, of course, go right ahead." Only the Israelites witnessing the parting of the Red Sea could know of the elation Violet feels as soon as she is cleared to leave.

"Have fun doing whatever you're doing here, Ms. P," Violet gives her knowing Cheshire grin.

Ms. Pillsbury's stomach turns as Violet shoves her way through the crowd to her friends. She has a lot of dedication to her friends, no matter how deviant they are, Ms. Pillsbury smiles. Still, there is something off about her attitude that can't be figured out. And worst of all, it feels like Violet knows something she doesn't…and took great pleasure in it as well. But Violet can't be a sadist, Ms. Pillsbury reasons. She's far too kind for such things.

"Hey, it's over!" Mr. Schuester shouts at both Mitchell and Brad outside. "Do not make me call your parents, both of you."

"It's not over!" Brad screams, intentionally failing to get past the teacher's flimsy barricade: his hand. "Everybody betrayed me! I'm fed up with this world!"

Suddenly, Violet shoves her way through the crowd with a slightly crazed look about her. It is an excellent ruse that put attention on her now, but the rest of the players keep up their façades. "Oh God, you attracted a crowd!" She turns to Mr. Schuester. "I apologize for them; they must be taking up your time. I'll take them home right away. Come on." On cue, all three of them trail behind Violet and turn the corner…only to use a copied master key and hide in the girls' bathroom while the crowd slowly disperses outside.

"We had to choose a girls' bathroom?" Mitchell asks.

"Shut the fuck up before I shove you down a toilet." With that, Sunny effectively quiets the whole group for the next fifteen minutes.

* * *

The first two hours of surveillance have next to no blackmail material for the Sunshine Gang, conveniently out posted in the computer lab for its Wi-Fi. All of the students are gone now except for them.

"So that's two meaningless mistletoe pecks, each with Mr. Schue, a few loaded insults by Coach Sylvester, an altercation between Coach Sylvester and Ms. Castle, Coach Beiste being friendly, and a lot of gossip that's been caught by our cameras and audio," Brad reads off of his meticulous list complete with timestamps of the events.

"So basically, we have shit," Mitchell jibes before shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. "I could be rolling up a blunt or hooking up the bong at home by now!"

"Then it's a good thing we told our parents we're out at Breadstix for dinner, isn't it?" Violet toys with her cell phone camera's color settings for the third time.

"We aren't leaving until we have some decent blackmail for next year, got it?" Sunny examines the four frames of surveillance silently, taking in every detail of every staff member within the lounge. "How long does the spiker take to activate?"

"Earliest signs should be at an hour, latest two and a half. I'm surprised we aren't getting anything humiliating yet, actually," Brad scratches his face and pushes up his drooping glasses.

"Hey, let's start the karaoke machine!" Ms. Castle on the screen shouts, even more intoxicated than usual. "I volunteer Will!"

Her leer at the surprised young man says it all: "We might be getting somewhere," Sunny whispers mischieviously. The gang leans into the computer screen to see what will happen next while Mitchell shoves two handfuls of popcorn into his mouth.

* * *

**A/N: **Reviews are appreciated!


	3. The Trap, Part One

**A/N: **The party turned out longer than I expected! Hope no one minds! Endure three more chapters? Disclaimer is in the first chapter.

* * *

Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell's senses are slipping, she can feel it. There is no virgin eggnog on the table for some reason—as far as she can tell from what everyone is saying, because eggnog has dairy in it after all—though she could have sworn Coach Beiste bought some just for the party. So over the two hours, Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell downs two cups of hot coffee with ten packets of sugar in each cup and a sealed bottle of water because she can't trust herself with food and drinks that can be double-dipped, undercooked, poisoned by Coach Sylvester, and plainly disgusting to the senses. It turns out to be a very good thing she ate a snack before the party, otherwise she would be far worse off. Now there is another coffee, ten sugars of course, in her hand again.

Carl encouraged her to go to this party on her own, nothing to encourage the gossip behind her back. But he said it's for "independence" or something along those lines, even though a marriage by its definition is dependence on one another, shunning the idea of being independent at the same time because then she will have to admit being at the party is a smart move.

It obviously isn't, considering the people she works with on a daily basis.

He really wants the best for her, but what he doesn't know—and conveniently forgets every time—is that her fellow faculty members are insufferable…except for a select few, of course. And Mr. Schuester certainly isn't on that list of non-insufferables. No way.

"Then how about you? Time to let the crazy out, huh?" Ms. Castle's alcoholic laugh quickly backs Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell into a corner, head swimming even more than previously.

She wonders if anyone else felt like this, cornered and dizzy. Everyone seems to be moving a little slower than previously. "No, no thank you," she stutters.

"Well," Ms. Castle huffs. "we've got a Christmas tree, so I've got the song!"

She giggles as she tests the microphone and hits play on the karaoke machine. The karaoke starts to play a familiar tune, so familiar that most of the people lift a glass of eggnog or other drink and down it at the sound. In an off-key warble, Ms. Castle begins, "Rockin' around the Christmas tree…!"

Mitchell is the only one with a sense of humor at this point. "Shit man, she's fucked out of her head!"

"We need something better; Ms. Castle has no morals on a daily basis," Brad mutters. When Mrs. Jarvis begins dancing with Ms. Castle and a few other teachers, his jaw drops.

"_Mon Dieu_!" Violet thrills at watching her French teacher dance. While Mitchell is being too easily amused, Sunny keeps a close watch on Coach Beiste; she's being a lot friendlier now, kissing people under the mistletoe she kept wandering under. She must have kissed at least five people by now.

"Frosty the snowman had a ver' shin' nose!" Ms. Castle snorts after she and a few teachers start a drunken sing-a-long after her initial song. While Coach Sylvester is appalled, the amount of coffee she has imbibed is enough to make her silent and dizzy for the entire party.

"This must be our best spiker yet," Brad whispers in shock before the gang collapses in laughter.

* * *

Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell is still backed into a corner, trying to keep all of her senses close when Mr. Schuester, stumbling a little, approaches her.

"Hey Emma, I just wanted you to kn-know," and he stops midsentence, his eyes getting a little watery. "God, you look beautiful today. Very Christmas."

Mrs. Pillsbury-Howell wonders if he is an emotional drunk for a second, but her thoughts are soon overrun with adoration for the man. The way he keeps doggedly pursuing her after he fell sick was sort of cute, she admitted to herself. He was doing a lot better than putting on risqué musicals, which was certain…maybe even the only thing that is certain in the year so far. Poor thing. It's the holiday season, the time of giving back, of love, of friendship. The least she can do is remotely care for him. And besides, Carl isn't there to tell her not to talk to him (even when she really shouldn't) or protect her from him. But he looks so harmless when tipsy. Vulnerable. What's the harm in showing a little affection?

"Will, why don't you go and perform something at the karaoke machine? Singing can be therapeutic," she says, patting his shoulder in a friendly, yet strange, affection.

He seems perplexed for a moment, but gives a lopsided grin anyway. "Great. I'll dedicate it to you, okay?"

"I—I don't think that's nece—oh!" Something warm touches the side of her cheek. At her side is none other than Coach Beiste. Why does everyone have a lopsided grin on their face? It's a professional environment quickly losing its professionalism.

"Hi there Emma…"

Unable to speak, Emma instead clumsily snatches a napkin from the table and dabs the side of her face gently. Coach Beiste doesn't seem to mind the overtly rude gesture. In fact, she gives a loud burst of laughter and points in another direction. "Will!"

More people laugh. Emma drinks the scalding liquid and lets it burn her throat at the sight she beholds upon turning around. It is Will, clearing his throat, microphone in hand. "This song is for Emma," is all he says before breaking into a surprisingly on-key version of "It's a Marshmallow World," a short ditty about what winter looks like…

Or so Emma assumes, since the tune is somehow on-key, but the words are nearly intelligible. Something about a pumpkin in winter? That can't be right. The coffee is supposed to make her sober, to convince her that none of this is happening, but it only seems to make her melt even more into the drunken camaraderie of the party.

And before she knows it, she's cornered by Will against the wall again, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers, his breath tinged with alcohol for some reason, but strangely intoxicating. He's not taking that next step, the step she knows will break the careful wall she's taken an almost meticulous obsession to keeping up. He might know it too; is it showing in her eyes? Is he somehow preventing himself from sullying her marriage? She looks for that hint of regret in his eyes…for letting her get away. And it's there. Clear as day, even though he's completely drunk.

What can one little pity kiss do for both of them? Is it a good idea to find out?

* * *

They all crowd around the glowing computer screen once more. "We're going to need a lot of popcorn," Brad says.

"No way in hell I'm getting it! This shit just got good!" Mitchell shouts boisterously.

"Looks like our guidance counselor let the spiker get to her…" Violet muses deviously.

"She's consumed at least three or four cups of coffee…up to the brim with enough sugar to get one of us hyper…" Brad pales. "Coach Sylvester had her coffee straight; I don't know the effects of spiked coffee with sugar! What if she gets into trouble with Will?"

"Better. Than. Cable," Mitchell crunches the final piece of popcorn in the bowl while Mr. Schue's song finishes. "Fuck. We're out of fucking popcorn." Just as he pulls out the other pack of popcorn in his backpack, he notices Sunny's smirk and asks, "What's that song playing?"

"She can't be singing that song!" Violet exclaims with a spreading grin on her face. "Santa Baby!"

Emma decides to fight fire with fire against Will instead of succumbing to her slowly leaking desires. He has no right to taunt her like this! Besides, who says she can't be a seductress? After this party, no one will even dare say that she can't go wild. Will quickly turns into a stripper pole for her egged-on antics. Most of the party raises their eggnog and assorted drinks and cheer, not unlike the drug parties the Sunshine Gang attend every other weekend and their own crazy parties among each other.

Brad keeps getting paler and paler. "It's like she's doing a strip tease or something…"

"Fucking awesome!" Mitchell grins again. "Take it off, take it off!"

"It's always the quiet ones that surprise you the most," Violet murmurs quietly. "We're out of popcorn, right?"

"Get some for me!" Mitchell shouts as he throws the pack at her before focusing back on the screen.

Unwilling to dignify his rudeness with a response, she quietly slips out of the dark room, bowl in hand, to Mrs. Jarvis's room, which she knows has a microwave in it due to her impeccable attention to details. Once Violet looks around, she turns the corner and has a clear view inside the teacher's lounge. Ms. Pillsbury-Howell is still singing "Santa Baby" in a cutesy voice while grinding against Mr. Schuester. His hands are on her waist, and he's swaying back and forth, absorbing her voice like a sponge in water. He's become the latest human stripper pole.

And then she sees it. A pair of eyes staring right at her. They belong to someone standing behind the couple, and Violet knows she's foiled because they definitely belong to none other than Holly Holiday. How did she get in anyway? Are substitutes allowed at faculty Christmas parties? Was there a blind spot on the cameras that allowed her to be unnoticed? Holly can hold her liquor well. Violet knows this because Holly confessed to a class she was subbing for that she was out partying the night before. But once Violet slowly approaches the bustling lounge, she realizes that what she saw wasn't a pair of eyes, but particularly bright gems on a teacher's hairpin. It was just a hallucination, albeit a very scary one. Thankful, she dashes past the open door to Mrs. Jarvis's room to heat up Mitchell's pack of popcorn.

Meanwhile, Emma's song comes to a close. The teachers clap wildly, but something has changed between Emma and Will. They look at each other dazedly before Ms. Castle is suddenly struck by a burst of inspiration. After whispering to a few colleagues still surrounding the couple, Ms. Castle shouts boisterously as the group seizes Emma and Will and starts dragging them out of the lounge.

"Lego, lego!" Emma yelps while Will is trying his best to break free of the crowd. However, his efforts are futile against Coach Beiste, who is having the most fun she's ever had in years, drunk or sober.

"Wha—Brenda, Shannon—!"

"No kin do, lover boy!" Brenda snorts as she quickly opens a janitor's closet next door to the lounge and flicks on the dim switch. "You and ginger have so mush to work out! Brr!" she shivers. "Is cold in there, so hug and kiss for warmth! Shouldn't be a problem for either of you with yer his'try! Hahaha!" The rest of the teachers with her join in on the maniacal laughter as they shove Will in first, with Emma quickly stumbling in and landing on top of Will. "No getting out until you exercise the right to feel each other up! Hahahahaha!"

"Wai—!" Will shouts as Emma slips to the ground. As he reaches down to pick her up again, Brenda slams the door on the couple.

"Have fun lovebirds!" She turns to the rest of the group with a grin on her face. "Finally! Now they won't hog the karaoke machine anymore! Great work err'body!" The group cheers again as they walk back to the lounge.

Violet sees everything and nearly drops the bowl full of steaming popcorn she has in her hands.

* * *

**A/N: **I think this is a good place to stop for now. If this isn't enough Will and Emma for you, just wait until the next chapter! It will hopefully appeal to everyone, and if not, I tried my best. Things are changing fast for everyone now. Reviews, of course, are highly appreciated and make the updates go faster. Maybe a three day delay instead of four or otherwise.


	4. The Trap, Part Two

**A/N: **Hello everyone! I loved all of the reviews for the past chapter; I'm glad people appreciate disorderly drunkenness and lots of good fun in general.

I'm sorry this update took so long. Not only did I hit a writer's block at the beginning, but I ended up working with half a block last night for 3+ hours. Really, really difficult stuff, and let's leave it at that. I was unexpectedly saddled with real life this past week and I'm going to be occupied next week as well, so don't hold out hope for the final chapter coming in a short while; it could take me another week. I'll just pray no one minds and that this coming up will be more than enough to keep everyone satisfied!

Surprised with the length? I am. It's near 3,000 words. Again, this was not expected and I hope no one minds reading long stuff. All for Wemma, right? Heh.

And a final note before I let you go...I'm dedicating this chapter to **Lauren**, who really helped me out of my first writer's block this chapter and let me tell her the ideas running through my head for this chapter and the final one. Also for just being awesome and de-stressing my mind every so often. Thanks so much **Lauren**! Disclaimer is in the first chapter.

* * *

Once Violet arrives back at the computer lab, the rest of her friends are standing, staring at her. Mitchell is the first one to react, however.

"Fucking finally!" he exclaims as he snatches the bowl of popcorn from her hands and shoves a hand in it and crunches a handful.

Brad is clearly not amused. "What the hell happened out there? You leave to get popcorn for one minute and all of the teachers suddenly run out! I thought you were a goner for sure!"

Sunny, somehow, is keeping her cool. "The important thing is that she didn't get caught. But I'm with him on one thing: what the fuck happened out there? You did see it, right?"

Violet's eyebrows rise, trying to recount the events that left her in shock. "Yeah. I don't know what you saw before, but they pushed Mr. Schue and Ms. P out of the lounge and shoved them into a closet. Ms. Castle was talking about having them kiss or something—"

"What the fuck are we waiting for then?" Sunny rushes to the door. "Brady, get a camera or something! We have to get them on film!"

Brad doesn't move. "Are you crazy Sun? There are no cameras in a closet. And even if we could somehow film them, it would require having our cover blown to hell and back. I refuse to take any part in it." For extra emphasis, he folds his arms and nods swiftly.

"Vi, you with me on this?"

"Sun, Brad's right. Besides," she sighs and walks back to the computer. She smiles at the teachers singing karaoke and dancing inappropriately with each other. "these are our targets. Like Mr. Shi dancing with his supposed enemy, Ms. Clemet."

"You're shitting me!" Mitchell stares at the screen. "Shit! Sun, look at this!"

"You see?" Violet continues. "Whatever they're doing in there is out of our view. We have plenty of the other things they did on camera, so we can be thankful for that."

"I thought you'd be all for the idea," Sunny seethes. "but I guess you're right. Ugh…I hate that…" She walks back to her friends to watch the rest of the party with her friends.

"We'll leave at 11 PM," Brad decrees. "There's not much left out of them. We'll come back in the morning and pull the cameras out and the rest of the footage they get. Understood?" Everyone nods.

"Was that a panty flash from Ms. Castle?" Violet asks as they shudder at the thought. "I didn't know she liked thongs…"

* * *

Will is banging on the door while Emma is positioned against the wall, softly mumbling incoherently to herself. "Brenda! Shannon! Open the door!" He tries the door handle, but it's locked. "Hey! Let us out!"

"There's no one there Will…" Emma hiccups and bangs her head against a shelf. "Ow…"

"Emma!" He immediately rushes to her, feeling for the top of her head in the dark. "You okay?" She remains silent while leaning on Will's shoulder. She does not realize how warm he is until that moment and proceeds to hug him tightly. "We'll get out of here, okay?"

"Hnngh…ha…hahahahaha!" she laughs into his shoulder. "Hahahahahahaha!" When she finally looks up to approximately where his face is, she says, "This party is so much fun! Whee!" She begins to twirl in the small space before falling back on him and tapping the tip of his nose three times. "Wow! Your nose is so warm! And I'm so cold…" She backs away into the wall and falls to the ground, sobbing into her hands.

Will collapses back onto the floor, trying to figure out how to keep control of Emma and how they'll both get out of the closet. "Em, don't—don't cry—" Will doesn't have to be buzzed to know that Emma is a highly emotional drunk. But it may be because she hardly ever has alcohol in her system—or at least more than a glass or red or white wine.

She begins to hiccup again while tears pour down her face. "Will, I don't want to leave…" Another hiccup.

"You want to go back to the fun, gotta help me." He takes the opportunity to move closer to her since he is suddenly starting to get cold himself. "We'll get out there and sing some more."

"You're going to leave me there alone like Carl did," she whispers. "No…I—I can't trust you Will. You've left me alone before. So many left me…"

"Emma—"

"NO!" she shouts and rams him against the door again. "Don' touch me! You'll hurt me again! I know it, I know it, I—!" she wails and kicks herself into the darkest corner of the small space, hardly trying to control herself at all. "I don't want you, I don't need you, ge-ge-ge-get away!" Her trembling fingers remove Carl's ring and she throws it at Will. "I don't need anyone!"

He stares at the glittering specks in Emma's ring. "Whoa…" he twirls the ring back and forth until it catches the light of the lamp in the closet. "Hey! Em, look up! It's like…stars…"

"My ring makes stars?" She peeks out from the shadows and slowly stands up. "I didn't know that! How did you do it?"

"The light—"

"They're so pretty…it just—I just—it makes me wanna sing!"

Will almost drops the ring when he hears this. "Sing?"

"Mister Maestro! Start us off with…a song you heard before the party! Do it, do it!" she claps and giggles, jumping up and down to reach the specks of light on the ceiling.

"Um, okay…um…in the meadow we can build a snowman? And pretend that he is Parson Brown?" How in the world is he going to pull this off…?

"Don't be so boring Will! A Christmas song?"

"It is a Christmas party, and it is Christmastime," he reminds her.

"Hmph!" When she jumps again, she does not stick her landing and trips over her heels and lands right on top of Will.

"Em, I didn't know you were—ugh!—my chest!" he groans as he gently positions her upright, but due to their predicament, their faces are inches apart.

Both ignore their proximity and try not to think about how close they are to kissing each other. All Emma says is, "You're a comfy pillow." Instead of standing up to catch the "stars," she rolls to his side and looks up at the ceiling with Will. "We should stay like this forever. Can we?"

"Uh…sure."

After looking up at the ceiling for almost a half hour, only listening to each other breathing in and out, Emma kicks off her heels and pushes them across from her. "You still have to sing, you know."

"I was hoping you forgot about that," he sighs, but smiles anyway. He can never frown at Emma, it's a sad fact. But it also makes him happy in his drunken haze because it means that there's no doubt about his feelings for her. He'll always be happy with her, not sad or disappointed or upset.

"Now, think of something that isn't Christmas, rap, or Journey and get up and S-I-N-G for me," she says as she shoves him off the ground and under the lamp, where the dim light catches the entire ring and casts a full spangle of sparkles all across the ceiling.

"I can't use Journey?" She nods in response. "Damn. Fine, um…okay, okay, I got one. Just, uh…" he clears his throat and takes a jaunty pose. "Remember to clap when I tell you to. One clap, then clap twice when I say it. I see you, and you see me…" She claps immediately. "What? I didn't tell you to clap!"

"Sure you did." She claps twice. "You said one clap, then clap twice. I'm just following orders," she smiles flirtatiously. "Go on Maestro! Sing for me!"

* * *

"Hey Vi," Brad asks as he watches a third teacher collapse onto the teachers' lounge floor from exhaustion. "why are you checking your phone?" As he turns around in his seat, he suddenly notices her pained expression by the light of her cell phone. "Vi?"

"My parents are expecting me. They're going to sleep now," she murmurs.

"Then do us all a favor and go home," Mitchell says unabashedly before a loud smack and a crash wakes Sunny from her nap.

"What just happened?" she looks over at Brad and then to what his terrified eyes are staring at. "What the—?"

"Fuck you Mitchell! Just fuck you!" Violet screams as she continuously kicks and stomps on Mitchell's feet.

"God fucking damn it! Either of you gonna get her off me or what?" Mitchell implores Sunny and Brad, who blankly stare at the fight unfolding in front of them for different reasons. Brad is too shocked to stop the fight while Sunny remains unreadable, almost as though she is waiting for something to happen. "Sun! Sun!"

But something does happen. Violet suddenly stops kicking Mitchell and slowly backs away into her old seat, visibly sobbing. "I—I—"

"Fuck Sun! What the fuck just happened to her?" Mitchell yells as he rises from the floor, rubbing the cheek that Violet slapped a few seconds ago.

"I—"

But Sunny is swiftly cut off by her friend, who is still shaking from her uncharacteristic outburst. "I don't know! I don't fucking know!"

Sunny lets a few seconds pass before coldly commenting, "You still don't have full control of your withdrawal symptoms."

Violet lets out a shaky laugh. "No…it's just that time of the year. Heh. Christmas. Family." She looks right at Sunny. "I can't feel it anymore. It's an empty void inside of me, sucking me away, taking me," she imitates stretching a rubber band with her hands. "and snap. I love them…and you," she growls at Mitchell. "You are not going to be insulting them anytime soon."

"That's another teacher down," Brad says as Ms. Clemet collapses. "Sun, we have another half-hour until closing time."

"Good. The teachers should all be fast asleep by then. Tomorrow at 7 AM, before the janitors get in, we get here and take the cameras out."

Everything seems back to normal for the gang, but Violet suddenly realizes, "Nobody stopped me. I must be the luckiest girl in the world to have friends who'll let me do something like that. Friends who'll let me get away with murder one day."

* * *

As the teachers awake in the lounge diminish to five, Emma and Will are still awake and well in the closet. In fact, they are both entertaining themselves by singing a 1980's pop staple. "Now, come in on the drums Em!"

With that signal, Emma quickly did the famous drum riff of the song. "Duh-dum-duh-dum-duh-dum!"

"And I can feel it coming in the air tonight…oh Lord!" he sings into the imaginary microphone in his hands.

"Well I've been waiting for this moment, for all my life…oh Lord!"

At the same time by chance, they both drunkenly sing and scream, "And I can feel it in the air of the night, oh Lord! Oh Lord!" before breaking down into laughter until tears start coming out of their eyes.

However, something changes in the tears from Emma's eyes, which Will is slow to notice as he relives memories of playing the song nonstop as a teenager. "Em, what's wrong? Em?" he kneels in front of her and puts both hands on her frail shoulders to calm her. "Will you stop crying for me?"

Her blood shot eyes look up into his. "We…we both have red eyes, but for different reasons, huh?" They take the moment to laugh, both secretly reminiscing fonder memories of sitting across from one another and talking, back when everything was somewhat functioning. At least Ken was still mentally stable back then. "Will? Do you think we have a lot of water under the bridge?"

Stunned by the question's use of an old saying, he falls backward into a sitting position on the floor. Neither mind that the floor is on the dirty side; they do not expect themselves to stand for God knows how many hours. "Probably. I can't even—."

"I love Carl so much—"

"I know."

"Wait, listen," she sniffles. "I feel happy with him, really, really happy, otherwise I wouldn't have married him, but something…something's missing. He's very different from who you were when we were together. He makes me laugh a lot, you know. But he doesn't have your sense of humor. He doesn't have a lot of things you do, and you don't have a lot of things he does. That feeling—have you ever had that feeling with anyone?"

"When I was still married to Terri…and falling for you. It feels like I'm still falling too. Not sure why though."

She barely manages to hold back the strain and tears in her voice. "All right, one more song before we say goodnight. But no more '80s songs. Something calmer."

"Something in mind?"

She cannot remember the title, but can remember everything else about the song. "The song from that really famous movie with," and putting on her best Humphrey Bogart impression, says, "'Here's looking at you, kid.' I heard it somewhere…Sing it for me, Will. For me."

"Then…" he says while standing up. "let's dance. For old times' sake, right?"

"Old times," she whispers while taking his hand.

After a few seconds of swaying, he sings in a soft, intimate voice, "You must remember this: a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh. The fundamental things apply as time goes by…and when two lovers woo, they still say…"

"I love you."

He stops swaying and looks down at her vulnerable and sad face. "Em, did I get it right?"

And just like that, Emma gives into her impulses and crashes her lips onto his, the taste of alcohol mixing at the touch. "You always have Will," she says between repeating kisses. "You always have."

As they trip over one another and let the door break their fall, the world tips as their pent-up tension electrify the air. Each of them needs more. A lot more than they can begin to fathom.

* * *

The Sunshine Gang is walking down the hallway to the exit, satisfied with their blackmail earnings. "We've got enough footage leftover for YouTube clips! Five goddamn hours of teachers gone wild!" Mitchell laughs loudly, not caring for the teachers that are all knocked out on the lounge floor.

"Great work everyone. Feeling better Vi?" Sunny shows compassion for the first time since Violet's outburst.

"Yeah. We'll toke up tomorrow after—" BANG! BANG! BANG! Echoes in the hallway, fraying Violet's slowly repairing nerves. "Shit!"

"Brady, there isn't supposed to be anyone here after hours!" Sunny furiously whispers.

Brad rolls his eyes. Of course he gets the blame for some unidentified noise. "No one is. They're all passed out in the party room."

"Wait…no!" Violet breaks out into a sprint down the hallway to a nondescript door. She puts her ear to the door before backing away slowly.

"Vi, what is it?" Brad asks as Sunny and Mitchell quickly catch up.

"In there," Violet points to the door.

"Drama queen," Mitchell scoffs as he puts his ear to the door. When Sunny and Brad notice his eyes widen, they all put their ears against the door.

"Bang bang bang," Brad mutters to himself. "It's a little creepy."

Mitchell takes his ear off the door as Brad does. "I need a big, fat blunt after that. I didn't need to hear that shit."

"Brady, give me the camera! More blackmail!" Sunny beckons with her hand. "The door should be open, so I'll—"

"Sun, we told you no hours ago," Brad reminds her as he pushes up his glasses. "Let's go already; I want to sleep."

"But—!"

"Come on Sun…need to be bright and sunny tomorrow when we're getting the cameras out," Violet adds as she takes her friend's hand and starts dragging her from the door. "Brad, lend me a hand."

"Oh, come on! You don't want to see Mr. Schue and Ms. P going at it? We'd have the school eating out of the palms of our hands if we got footage!"

"Old people sex is disgusting," Mitchell says. "That shit better not be a turn-on or something."

"They're thirty at least!"

"Old people," Mitchell repeats as he waits at the exit to the parking lot just outside.

"Just let me get one image on a camera phone or something!" Sunny pleads like a druggie from the crack district. "They probably won't even notice! Shit, I'm the leader around here! You're supposed to follow what I say, not disobey it!"

Violet smiles pitifully. "It's for your own good."

Sunny frowns. "But I'm no good in the first place!" she wittily self-deprecates herself in a ploy to gain sympathy from her friends.

It doesn't work on her friends. "Exactly," Brad interjects as Sunny, grumbling, unlocks the door with a copied master key.

Once everyone is outside in the cold night, Sunny locks the door and pockets the key. "I'm locking you in there the next time you make a comment like that," she deadpans before they share a laugh at the time they have had.

Violet is the only one who notices that the night doesn't feel so cold and empty with their laughter. Maybe it's for the best she's the only one who does. And maybe it is also for the best to let Mr. Schue and Ms. P have their fun, even if it's for one night. Lightning never strikes twice, and Violet has a feeling there's no chance in hell or heaven for the two teachers. Who would they be to intrude on that moment and bring them back to the grave reality of their situation?

_Pretty fucking mean bastards, that's who._

* * *

**A/N: **If you're reading this, that means you made it through to the other side! Congratulaplosions! Now, I want to apologize for not expanding on the makeout scene. If my writing didn't already scream it, I fail at romance and mush. I'm not sure why, so I can't explain it any further than that, but I hoped you liked my tiny endeavor anyway. As a little fun trivia test, see if you can figure out every single song Emma and Will sang together. I didn't include their titles, but they're pretty famous, so it shouldn't be that hard.

Reviews are appreciated-it'll give me drive to scrounge more time to finish up.


	5. The Reward

**A/N: **Here it is, the final chapter! This week was as busy as I expected, and I scrounged up enough time today to finally get this done for everyone to read. I want to thank everyone for taking the time to read, alert, favorite, and review this! Thanks for sticking with it and all of my empty promises until the end! Disclaimer is in the first chapter. For the final time, enjoy.

* * *

McKinley High School looks like an abandoned building every Saturday, and this Saturday is no different. The world is dark, for dawn is not upon them yet. The parking lot lamps are still on, so Brad and Violet are leaning against the lamp's pole while Sunny furiously yells into her cell phone far away from the pair.

"What the fuck? You're supposed to be here! It's seven! I don't fucking care if you want to sleep in! I'm too tired for this shit—fuck you!" Sunny ends the call and walks under the lamp, copious amounts of her breath visibly forming from her mouth and nostrils. "Mitch isn't coming. Let's go."

Brad turns on his flashlight once they are inside and begins casting light on the lockers and all of the posters in the hallways. "God damn it…the school's dark!"

"Don't flash it around too much Brady," Sunny commands. "It might wake someone up, including—well, you know. And we won't be able to get our blackmail that way."

"You still can't be on that!" Brad exclaims. "Vi and I told you, we're not getting any photos of Mr. Schue and Ms. P. The risk that we'll be caught is too high. We get the cameras and we leave to—" he pauses suddenly. "What are we doing once we're done?"

"We should be editing the footage for each teacher, right?" Violet asks. She stares at the closet door as they walk by before refocusing on the path ahead of them. "Or are we putting that off until January?"

Sunny stops by the open entrance to the teacher's lounge and leans against the wall, silently thinking to herself about their course of action. "I can call Mitch up again and we can meet up at your house to edit everything," she indicates Brad. "I'll tell him to bring some weed. We all deserve it after this."

The three of them silently agree with each other and stand at the threshold of the teacher's lounge. It looks like a battlefield of dead bodies, except everyone is sleeping or snoring and no one looks like they have been through hell and back physically. A few, such as Coach Sylvester, are knocked out sitting at some tables, while more are strewn on the floor or on top of tables. A few are on top of each other in highly compromising—but not naked, to the chagrin of Sunny—positions. Thankfully, there are a few empty chairs that can be moved in order to reach the ceiling and take the cameras away.

* * *

Emma Pillsbury-Howell hugs her very warm pillow, reluctant to get up once she realizes she is wide awake. Her vision is a little blurry, but as her eyes adjust to the dark surroundings and her senses begin to come back to her, she suddenly feels the pillow move. It's not a pillow, but another body—a toned body at that. When she looks up, she sees the face she should not be seeing.

"Eh…?" the person grumbles as she yelps and backs as far away as she can, unaware that she is sliding on the dirty floor of the janitor's closet. The voice yawns and falls silent.

As Emma tries to rationalize what is happening—running into blocks and digressions every so often—cold takes over as she begins to shiver. When she hugs herself, she feels skin that is not her arms or hands. "Oh my God," she whispers when she looks down at her outfit. Why didn't she see it before? Her tight pencil skirt is still on, but the worst part of her disheveled appearance is her wide open blouse with a clear view of her breasts for anyone should they find her. The succession of surprises magnifies her hangover a million times over and gives her more chills than necessary. "Will? Will?" She shakes the body in front of her, making sure to avoid the chest.

"I'm up, I'm up…" As he wipes the fog out of his eyes, enough light is shining from the crevice at the bottom of the door to catch the light of the person in front of him. "Emma? Agh! Why does my head hurt so much? And…where are we?"

She is shielding her eyes from him. "You're shirtless."

"No I'm—" He is corrected when he looks down at himself. "Oh. Wait, you've seen me shirtless before."

"I don't remem—"

"Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me rehearsal. Are you sure you want my shirt back on?" he quips.

Her headache does not make her in the mood for jokes. "Yes." As she clasps her fingers, she suddenly gasps. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no." Her eyes dart everywhere as Will buttons the three or four buttons remaining on his shirt. She sets her deadly gaze on him. "What did you do with my ring?"

* * *

Although there are a few close calls, such as Violet almost falling backwards and Brad crushing a pair of glasses as the trio walk out with the cameras in a black bag, their mission is as good as accomplished.

"So we get those pictures of Mr. Schue and Ms. P now, right?" Sunny asks as she stops by the closet door.

"God damn it Sun!" Brad, finally frustrated with Sunny's constant pleading, shouts. "We are not getting a god damn picture of them!"

"Fuck you Mr. I-stepped-on-Ms. Castle's-glasses! Fucking klutz! I just want some fucking blackmail from them!"

"You don't want just blackmail from them! I know you don't!" Brad screams at her, scaring Violet as she is inching away from her arguing friends. He pushes up his glasses and in a lower voice, he explains, "If you wanted just blackmail from them, you would have settled with the strip tease Ms. P did last night and Mr. Schue kissing Ms. P under the mistletoe—which was something you didn't catch. You have an unhealthy obsession with them. I don't know what they've done for you or whatever other excuse there is, but you feel the need to catch them together, which explains more than enough to me. Do you even like Dr. Carl?"

Sunny bites her tongue and looks away from him. "Hmph. His positive attitude annoys me, which is why I hate going to the dentist. Everyone thought Mr. Schue would end up with her," she sniffs.

"Where's my ring Will? If I can't find it—"

"I'm looking, but I can't find it on the floor!"

"Oh my God. Oh my God." The gang hears the voices and heavy breathing from inside the closet, and the probability that they are found out triples in an instant.

"Crap…" Violet whispers, masking her ultimate move of sacrilege under the arguing inside and her friends' bewilderment: trying the door handle and opening it a slight tad. At least they wouldn't be locked in for the janitor to find them. Besides…Ms. P has a husband to go home to. "While your psychoanalysis was really nice Brad, and, uh, your realization touching Sun, if they somehow get the door open, we're dead. We should get out of here."

"But the door is—" Brad looks down and suddenly sees the door. "Sun, we need to go—_now_. The door—"

"I don't give a fucking shit if the door is open!" Sunny yells at Brad. "But that means…thank God for camera phones," she says wickedly as she pulls out her camera phone.

Brad has no choice but to take imperative action. He quickly grabs Sunny's hand with the camera phone, and it doesn't take long for Violet to follow suit and grab Sunny's other hand. "We are getting out of here without a picture whether you like it or not!"

"Maybe it slipped under the door Em! Look, it's even open a bit!" All three of them hear as the door flips open in front of them.

"Oh shit," Brad whispers. Emma and Will are on their hands and knees in front of them, and Brad takes another incentive and shines his flashlight in their eyes, temporarily blinding the couple while all three—including Sunny—bolt for the unlocked door and quickly shut it behind them as though a beast were trying to get through.

After Emma and Will get the spots out of their eyes from the sudden flash of light and get over their headache, he asks her, "What just happened?"

"I…" Emma is too stunned for words. "No, you still need to find my ring Will! Let's look through the closet again, since it's not out here! And now…" She looks to the door with mixed feelings brewing inside of her. "there's light to help you."

* * *

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Sunny curses to both of her companions. "If you had just let me stay a little bit longer I would've gotten the picture for sure! But no! Your morals and dignity had to kick in!"

"Get a hold on yourself Sunny! Don't make me slap you!" Brad replies.

"You wouldn't dare!" Sunny taunts. Much to her surprise—and Violet's—he smacks her right across the face.

As Sunny recovers and rubs the side of her face, now a dull red, she stares at Brad for a long time. "You bastard! That actually hurt!" Brad cringes for the worst, but then Sunny's mouth spreads into a wide grin as she gives hard pats to his shoulder. "You're a good kid after all!"

"Good?" Brad frowns as she begins to walk into the sunrise. "Wh—why? I just slapped you!"

"I needed that slap Brady Bunch!" she yells, not looking back at the pair. "I'll call Mitch and we'll toke up with the Christmas tree bong at my place!"

"Oh Sunny…" Violet chuckles to herself.

"What the hell just happened?" Brad asks Violet.

"That's who she is. She appreciates people who stand up to her." Violet replies calmly. "That's us. It's a lot of fighting, but there's respect and laughs in it too."

"We smoke marijuana and blackmail teachers for grades!"

"Doesn't mean we can't have respect. We're stereotype breakers. Just because we're users doesn't mean we're immoral addicts. You don't actually believe all the gossip in school about us, do you?"

"My head hurts…" Brad shakes his head as he begins walking to catch up with Sunny.

"Nothing a bong can't cure," Violet says. She looks back to the imposing school and smiles before catching up with her friends to kick off an already excellent Saturday.

* * *

Meanwhile, Emma and Will have come up empty-handed in their search. Seeing no other option, they decide to find their things inside the strangely unlocked offices and leave the school through the (hopefully) unlocked front door. _Where is the security in the school?_ each of them wonder. "Emma, I'm sorry we couldn't find your ring," Will apologizes sadly as he puts on his red and green vest from yesterday. "I know how much it means to you. But hey, at least we found our other clothes. It's probably cold outside."

"Thanks, but I don't think a cardigan will help me much outside," she replies while wrapping her cardigan a little tighter. "I'll just tell Carl that the other teachers pushed me in a closet with you and I lost my ring in the process…or something like that. He has insurance on the ring and he won't mind that I had fun—I think. He might be angry with the teacher though," she laughs.

"Well, Em, he doesn't really like me after the Rocky Horror rehearsal I did with you…you told me two weeks ago." He doesn't mention that her words have been replaying in his mind for all of those weeks. "I don't think you should tell him that I was in the closet with you." She gasps at his advice. "I just don't want you to get into another fight with him over spending too much time with me. You're newlyweds; it's not healthy for both of you to have fights over everything like Terri and I did," he sighs at the memories. "You were supposed to have fun last night and now…"

"We both can't remember anything; you muttered that six separate times while we were looking for the ring. I hope the door is open…" She pushes on the door, and sure enough, it opens to the still rising sun that gives them both an even bigger headache and chills them to their bones. "It's a little chilly, but everything's going to be all right."

"I feel guilty for whatever happened last night. It was probably far from your ideal night," Will adds as Emma closes the door to the school.

"Do you think we…um…_did_ anything last night?" Emma asks shamefully.

"Well, I had my jeans on when I woke up and you had your skirt on as well, so I'm guessing we didn't _do_ anything, because if we did, I don't think our drunken selves would have had the energy to put our clothes back on," he chuckles sardonically.

Emma sighs, relieved. "I just can't imagine cheating on Carl. He's a good man and he loves me so much."

"Otherwise you wouldn't have married him, right?"

With a slightly wobbly conviction, she says, "Exactly." When they reach their cars, Emma stops him for a final question as she finds her wipes and car key inside her bag. "Will?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we still had fun at the party last night? Before we were locked in the closet?"

He leaves the keys in the car handle lock and thinks for a few seconds. "Probably. There was karaoke, I think, so maybe I sang a bit and entertained everyone, hopefully you. I wish I could remember that; it must have been great—" he shoves his hands in his pockets and nearly stops breathing.

"Will? What's wrong?" She stops wiping the car handle and rushes to Will as fast as she can in high heels and with a throbbing headache.

He slowly pulls from his left pocket what looks like a tiny trinket to Emma. "I, uh, found your ring. Here," he says as he takes her cold left hand and slides the ring onto her ring finger. "Now you don't have to lie to Carl," he sheepishly grins.

"How—?"

"I'm just as confused as you are Em. But at least you have it again. It suits you," he sadly smiles again.

"Thank you so much Will," she smiles before giving him a peck on the cheek. "I'm so glad," she holds back tears while staring at it adoringly; ignoring the back of her mind's clamoring to throw it into the slush on the ground and forget it ever happened. What _it_ was, she wasn't so sure. Will putting the ring on her finger? Will finding the ring? Or something much, much worse that she can't bring herself to even think about consciously?

"Well," Will finally sighs. "You have a husband to get back home to. And I—have a home to go back to. I'm a little tired from whatever happened last night…"

"I can give you a ride to your apartment if you're too tired to drive," Emma offers.

"No," he politely refuses her kindhearted request. "You should be home with Carl right now, getting ready for whatever you two will be doing today. I appreciate the offer though."

"Ahm…okay. I'll see you in three weeks then? Same table in the lounge?" she asks as she opens her car door.

"It's a date."

They each give a half-hearted smile before entering their cars, effectively ignoring the so-called "elephant in the room" and sequestering them into their separate, yet constantly colliding worlds. They cannot come to a solid decision on whether or not to salvage their memories and talk about what happened the night before. Maybe it is better to discredit what they can't remember, and maybe it creates more unnecessary issues. Both of them have so much to forget, and yet so much to remember.

* * *

Not long after Will and Emma have left the school, the first teacher knocked out from the party wakes up. Mr. Yates, the English teacher, slowly opens his eyes and dimly beholds the mass of sleeping bodies that litter the lounge. After rubbing his eyes a bit, the shock of his surroundings finally hits him.

"Jesus Christ…what happened?"

* * *

**A/N: **I won't be writing fics for a while since I'm taking a break from anything Glee related until the Superbowl episode. But when it comes back, I'll have a spin-off series centered around the Sunshine Gang and their antics in school. There will definitely be interaction with the New Directions kids, all of the adults, the student body of McKinley High, and anyone mentioned in this fic, such as the teachers. I'll try to keep the series updated as best I can. But until then, all I can give you is a vague idea and hope for the best.

And if I didn't mention it enough, thank you so much for taking the time to read this fic! It might not be the best out there, but it'll do during a hiatus, right? Hehe. Have a very happy, safe, and warm holiday (and New Year), and make sure the eggnog at _your_ party isn't spiked! You don't want to end up like the teachers in this fic, do you? Unless you plan to catch it on tape or you're just a glutton for punishment; in that case, go ahead. Just have as much fun as you can this season! Thank you again for reading, alerting, favoriting, and reviewing. Reviews are still highly appreciated.


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